SOUTHWEST COAST PATH: PORTLOE TO FOWEY

Thursday 24th September: Portloe – Mevagissey

Pics, pics, pics

Let's start with the positive things about breakfast: fresh, well-cooked eggs, lemon curd, fresh pineapple. The fact that two German women were at breakfast would be neither here nor there apart from the bit where our host appeared to be from the Basil Fawlty school of talking to foreigners: “This is pineapple. Pine – apple. PIIIIINE. APPELLLL.” Oh my goodness. We left the breakfast table shortly thereafter and made our escape back down to Portloe and the coast path.







We foolishly decided to wait to Portholland to buy food (we didn't have a packed lunch), and after quite a scramble through the humid and still morning air, we arrived dripping with sweat to find the promised shop gone, the post office closed, and the toilets only operating because a volunteer had fought the good fight and maintained them without council support. Never mind, we thought, surely there is a kiosk at the carpark and beach near Caerhays Castle. We made the short, pleasant walk around to the cove to find that yes, there was a kiosk. It was also closed. We sat on the grass, drank our tea and ate the biscuits filched from the B&B coffee tray as our nemesisises from the previous day clattered past with their walking poles. We then purchased the castle as it seemed like a good one to add to our collection.



It was a steep climb, then a descent involving our least favourite thing (tarmac roads) to Hemmick Beach. We threw ourselves on the wall beside a holidaying couple and chatted for a while. They told us about all their misadventures in the motorhome they'd built from scratch and showed us the edible watercress growing in the stream (J took his shoes off and paddled over to pick some – any excuse to have a splash around, really!).



When they heard about our foodless plight, they gave us a couple of bananas and some chocolate coated digestive biscuits to help us on our way. They have our undying gratitude! We then marched up to the head of Dodman Point (the Dodman), given to the National Trust in 1919. We crossed the iron age earthwork named on the map as 'Bulwark', and wondered at the number of swallows flying about the place – eating the plague of tiny insects and dive-bombing a bird.



When we got to the cross at the top of the headland, another couple told us that the swallows had been chasing a young Peregrine Falcon – one that they'd seen as a juvenile the year before/earlier this year. Cool! We ate our bananas and admired as much of the view as we could see through the swarm of insects, then began the walk to Gorran Haven.







This bit was very beautiful, but I was quite sore in the foot department so we stopped for tea above Vault Beach, then pressed on to Gorran Haven for much-needed icecreams and chocolate. I was so, so, so tired, and unfortunately the next section involved walking very close to the edges of some high cliffs, at which point the fear of (falling from) heights I usually manage to keep under some control came bubbling to the surface, and the first actual tears of the walk fell. It's not nice, that feeling that the ground is moving under your feet, tipping you towards the edge – especially when you logically know that the ground is not moving but that the way you are walking is probably erratic and therefore you're more likely to fall anyway. ARGH!

We had to stop twice again before reaching Mevagissey (once at Portmellon, but the wait was worth it! We checked in to Honeycombe House to find that we'd been given a room with a balcony and a spectacular view of the harbours, the village, and the coastline stretching right the way around to the north-east. We also had binoculars! A+++, would stay again!



We hobbled down to the village and I had a meal composed almost entirely of vegetables at Quay West (what is the Cornish obsession with fajitas?)

Friday 25th September: Mevagissey to Charlestown.

Photos of the day

Fun facts: Mevagissey (called Meva by the locals and people who want to seem down with the locals) comes from the names of two saints (if my memory serves me correctly), Meva and Issey – in Cornish, Meva hag Issey. Charlestown is named after Charles Rashleigh, china clay entrepreneur, who's business took the village's population from 9 to 3000 between 1790 and 1850. Another fun fact: this was meant to be a short and pleasant daywalk. It was quite pleasant, but it involved CONSTANT ascents and descents, and a 1 ½ mile detour along tarmac roads at the end, so it wasn't as easy as one might expect a 12km walk to be!

We woke up to the sun rising across the ocean, spilling orange light into our room. We hung around on the balcony for a bit before and after having breakfast in the stunning sunroom (OMG THE VIEWS, THE VIEWS!).



Because this was a short walk, we wandered through the town for a bit, buying postcards, fudge, iron tablets, carrots and raspberries. It was tempting to take the boat to Fowey (where we'd be staying in 2 days time), but instead we began with the first of many, many steep climbs.







We headed through Pentewan (Pent Ewan, rather than Penty Wan – although I prefer our pronunciation), past a few cats and a man on his knees weeding his white stone front 'garden', then went up a hill and down a hill and up a hill and down a hill and J was sitting around with his boots off (fixing his socks) when an old guy asked us the way to Pentewen, and sped past us. We did some more upping and downing, passed a very cute little cottage in a little cove at the edge of a small wood. It had sculptures in the garden and a little stream running past. We didn't buy this one – I fear the hills may have clouded our judgement!




The cottage was just to the right of frame here.

We stopped for lunch at Black Head, an iron age fort set on a small hill at the end of a ditch-and-banked isthmus, and had our first full view of Charlestown.





Despite the threat of rain, we didn't see much in the way of moisture. Still, we popped the overs on our packs and, inspired by the apparent proximity, we set off refreshed. We went down a hill and up a hill and spoke to some other walkers (who were impressed by our packs but turned their noses up at our anti-camping ways) and went down and up a HUGELY STEEP VALLEY and stopped at the top and were OVERTAKEN BY THE OLD GUY FROM EARLIER IN THE DAY OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!?









We stopped in Porthpean (Porth PEEN! AHAHAHA!) for a toilet break (LOL), then went up another fucking hill to the start of the inland diversion, which continued to take us up the hill ON TARMAC. AND THEN! THEN! Where we were meant to turn back to the coast, THE ROAD WAS CLOSED and we thought we were going to have to make ANOTHER DETOUR. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! But we didn't, thankfully, and we arrived at our inn tired and sore and rather shellshocked after a day much harder and longer than we'd anticipated. The room, despite my fears, was great: loads of space, and (glory, glory, hallelujah!) A BATH!!! You can bet your bottom dollar that having a bath was the first thing we did! You have NO IDEA how good it was!



Saturday 26th September: Charlestown to Fowey

Photos of the day ... like soup of the day.

After a bad night's sleep (the room was so stuffy and hot, the fan provided was so noisy, the windows hardly opened, and one of them opened onto the noisy air conditioning unit for the whole establishment!), J had another bath and then we tumbled down to an early breakfast, where D had scrambled eggs with a MOUNTAIN of smoked salmon. We checked out the old boats in the harbour (they use it for period dramas and films, so they say), and climbed out of Charlestown.



I don't mind telling you that I (J) was in a very bad mood – fed up enough with fucking walking that had a bus passed us to Fowey, I would have got on it without a doubt. Luckily, the walking was easy past a golf course and some (ex?) china clay works (it goes into paper and toothpaste, you know), through a caravan park and across a beach to The Ship Inn (one of about 48 we have encountered on this walk) where we had a pint of lemonade each and goggled at the fact you could get wine on tap!









We decided that if we were to walk this far again, we would try to schedule a rest day every fifth day (i.e. 4 days of walking, 1 day off) because going for 6 days in a row is just too exhausting – not necessarily physically, but mentally. We also talked a bit about what our next walks might be. We're keen to finish off the Thames Path (we could probably fit in a couple of days when we're next over) and the Ridgeway, but not so much the SWCP – maybe a little at a time over many years! We'd also like to walk some less well-publicised or big name paths – trying something like the Hertfordshire Way rather than a National Trail might make the trip a bit more of an exploration rather than a tour. Even better, we could design our own!

From Par, it was a quick walk over to Polkerris where we stopped for a pasty and watched some people standing on surfboards and rowing themselves around a series of bouys (fun? Maybe. Funny? Definnitely).





Then it was on to Gribbin Head and the red and white striped daymark we'd first sighted two days before. We stopped for a tea break and had a chat to a few daywalking birdspotters we'd passed earlier. There were a lot of day walkers on this stretch, mostly toting copies of the same short walks in Cornwall book. We have decided that we should approach Jarrold to market these to teh gays – covers in bright pink, ratings from stiletto (high femme/queen) to lace-up boots (daddy/biker butch) – with the title Short Minces in Cornwall. I THINK THIS IS A BRILLIANT IDEA AND I SEE NOTHING PROBLEMATIC WITH IT AT ALL.







In Polridmouth, we spotted another house for those who requested property. The only problem with this one is that you'll get hundreds of Daphne du Maurier fans traipsing past to get a look at the cottage that inspired her novel 'Rebecca'.





From there it was a pleasant (though not flat!) walk into Fowey, watching the sailboats out to sea and stopping by the ruins of St Catherine's Castle for a rest. We knew when we'd reached the town because nobody smiled or greeted us (or returned our smiles or greetings) any more. We've become total country bumpkins, apparently.





We found our accommodation without difficulty, and discovered that our room . . . HAD A BATH!!! so we had baths! Whee! They also quite kindly let us do our washing and drying, which we did while watching Merlin and while out for dinner, respectively. Mmm, clean clothes are grand!

Sunday 27th September: Fowey to . . . FOWEY!!!



DAY OFF!!! WHEE!!! Had bath! Ate breakfast late! Had a gentle stroll (NOT A WALK) around Fowey! WENT ON A BOAT RIDE!!! Saw a kingfisher! Saw a house bought by a man who doesn't want his name mentioned, “So I'll mention his wife, Dawn French”! Bought postcards! Looked in a bookshop! Lolled about! Had a nap! Read the internet! Ate the most disappointing meal of the trip! Sat in lovely gardens, accompanied by the smell of illicit substances! Found a nice cafe! Drank drinks! Rested! Wrote this crap for you to read (I hope you appreciate our dedication)!



NOW. Please excuse us, we're going to watch some TV! Probably 'Coast', because we haven't seen enough of it (and we certainly haven't seen Nicholas Crane – I AM VERY DISAPPOINTED, ENGLAND)!

TWO WEEKS AGO TODAY IN TORONTO

It’s hard to believe it was two weeks ago that I woke up in J’s sunroom to a beautiful day already beginning over the Toronto skyline, ate cake and drank tea for breakfast, and chatted and did some internetting until A arrived (I only just realised there are two people who are called A! Henceforth this cute-as-a-button A will be known as Toft). We had a few things planned out for the day, mostly involving heading toward the Distillery District and the Soma chocolate factory, St Lawrence Market, and (for Toft and I) to begin our great thumbs-up tour of Toronto. The thumbs-up tour has some backstory, mainly involving our online realisation that we are both inclined to stick our thumbs up in front of touristy and other places of interest. It began for me when D and I went around Europe in 2005 (when this blog started, actually). There are several pics of me doing thumbs up. I’m not sure when it started for Toft, but we bonded over this as we were getting to know each other online, and at some point it was decided that we would do a great thumbs-up tour whenever we met, and that if it was in Toronto it would culminate in a picture of us thumbs-upping in front of the giant concrete turkey library. But I am getting ahead of myself.

On this particular Friday, we were walking among the feet of the giant buildings, headed towards city hall, when we heard the dulcet tones of a protest or rally. Being me, I insisted (politely) that we go and see what was going on. It turned out to be a group of workers (I assume part of a union) protesting outside Moors – Moors is a suit company that bills itself as stocking Canadian suits. However they are apparently closing down their factory Quebec and outsourcing the suitmaking to China. Dodgy.

We meandered on towards City Hall, stopping briefly to snap a shot of the famous Eaton Centre and the geese flying inside. The geese are pretty cool, but it’s a shopping centre, so whatever. The other interesting thing about it is the name – it used to be called Eaton’s, but because French doesn’t have the apostrophe-s thing, and Canada is officially bilingual, they changed it. Very close to the Eaton centre is City Hall – all of them, in fact, including Old City Hall in all its faux-gothic glory, open again after years of renovations and reconstructions. We didn’t go in, but rather took pictures of seagulls and New City Hall, which I had seen overrun with zombies and totally destroyed in that fine piece of arthouse cinema, Resident Evil: Apocalypse. They’ve done a good job of repairing it. ;)

Then to the Distillery District for lunch. I had possibly one of the most delicious sandwiches I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting and eating at Brick St Bakery. If you’re ever there, I highly recommend the (vegetarian roast) veg sanga. Om nom nom. We also had a look in some of the gallery spaces as we digested lunch, but that was really just a formality before we headed to the Soma chocolateria. I was introduced to this when J bought some over last year. OM. NOM. NOM. I purchased some hot chocolate mix to bring home with me (but don’t expect to get any if you visit – I will probably consume it all within days). We also had some hot chocolate (So thick! So sweet! So chocolatey! So spicy!) and tried out some of their hand-crafted chocolates. Toft had an olive oil one, which was subtle and lovely, and I had balsamic vinegar, which worked so well – even I was surprised at how well-balanced the flavours were. J bought some blood orange (I think) sorbet, which was a very good idea, as we needed a palate cleanser.

We decided to walk off a bit of lunch, so turned our noses towards the CN Tower and walked to St Lawrence Market, past the site of Canada’s first Parliament, which was attacked by the Americans, prompting the Canadians (or was it actually the English? It matters not to Canadians) to march on the White House and burn it down. Hahaha! GOTCHA!

At St Lawrence Market, we headed to the CHEESE! {Alex’s Cheese place} to be precise. We tried a few cheeses, and I purchased $60 worth for the coming weekend – two from Quebec, being a gooey washed rind (quite light, actually) and a delicious aged cheddar (rich, and they use port in some parts of the process). I also got a Roquefort and a local semi-soft goats cheese. I was tempted by a pre-wrapped wedge of marbled Guinness cheese, which looked pretty amazing, and all the Stilton reminded me to buy some when I got back to Melbourne. We had a few vegies and bread to get, and I saw fiddleheads for sale for the first time. Fiddleheads are the new furled fronds of a particular fern, which I believe are usually eaten steamed (that’s how I made them later, steamed with asparagus and tossed with a little bit of butter).

[OMG OMG! I JUST HEARD THE “HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOO. FRANK WALKER HERE FROM NATIONAL TILES” AD! YAY! I’m so in Melbourne!]

We were having a bit of a chocolate crash by this time, so we decided to have a snack and a drink in the BCE Centre. The BCE Centre is quite stunning, with high arches of light and air, white frames and glass. No wonder it’s won architecture awards. It houses this food court thing where you get a swipey card when you enter, and it gets swiped wherever you buy something, and you pay on the way out. So long as you don’t lose the card, everything is fine! Other things of interest there included a photography exhibition – I’m not sure what the theme was, but it included pictures of civil rights riots and protests, the (blimp that caught fire), world wars, etc. – and a shop called ROOTS. HAHAHAHAHA I’M AN IMMATURE AUSTRALIAN. I liked the woeful bloke sitting in front of it, too.

And then it was back to J’s place to get changed into sexy clothes for SexGeek’s party. I got to see J and A (not Toft) in their leather pants (A in uniform! Glee!), L in a delicious corset, and many hott folks in suits. I felt a little underdressed, but hey, black jeans and black shirt is acceptable in most situations, so it wasn’t too bad. And I got to meet SexGeek! W00T! I tried not to be too much of a fanboy! After a couple of hours, J, A, L, D and I piled into the car and L drove us up to J’s parents’ place in the country. And you know a bit about that already.

[OK, time to finish this delicious, delicious Melbourne coffee and tart little lemon tart. Heh, a tart tart.]

THURSDAY 8TH MAY

I woke up to Alex the gorgeous cat poking his head around the curtain to check whether I was awake. I noticed during my stay that he is one of the most polite cats in the world in this way – if he doesn’t see you open your eyes he doesn’t jump up on the bed. If he sees you’re awake, though, he will come and stand on your chest and purr mightily at you, or jump up on the bed, walk all over you, then curl up and snooze beside you. Js was already awake, just, so we got up, did some internetting, had showers and planned our day – rather, J told me all the awesome things we could do and I was gleeful about doing them aaaallllll!

We started off by visiting Northbound Leather, where I was to become something of a regular over the next week – not buying anything (too expensive, mostly), but perusing with various friends. J showed me ‘the Matrix coat’, which looked amazing on her. I encourage everyone to send her money so she can buy it!

From there, we walked out the front of the shop and wandered for a while along Yonge St, visiting a great queer bookstore where I drooled over the trans section, and was very interested to hear the conversation the guy behind the counter was trying to start up about a news story in the local queer paper – a trans person who was told to pick a changeroom at the baths and stick to it. I want to talk more about this encounter in my trans blog, so I won’t say too much here, but it was a really interesting situation where on the surface I agreed with the sales assistant, who was saying that all the changerooms should have cubicles and be unisex . . . but there were other interesting things going on, too.

We went into the gorgeously retro Toronto Public Library and checked out the ‘Hanga to Manga’ exhibition, which was interesting, though a kind of strange size and compilation. It was bigger than I’d usually expect a public exhibition in a library to be, but I kind of felt as though it lacked some cohesion, and that the contemporary manga bit had just been tacked on to pull a crowd. The work, however, was gorgeous, and I had a great time learning about various bits of Japanese culture and literature. After this, we were clearly in need of sustenance, so we grabbed some deliciously creamy icecream from Greg’s Icecream (unfortunately, the chocolate fudge sauce wasn’t ready, and J was rather disappointed) and headed along Bloor St to . . . HONEST ED’S, a cheapo discount store of massive proportions, where I encountered the scariest cuckoo clock I’ve ever seen – the crazy moose head on top will give me nightmares, I know it!

One of our main destinations for the day, however, was High Park, which we got to fairly quickly on PT after J showed me some of the underground path system in Toronto. It seems that everyone does indeed live in sub-terrainian caverns, just like they say in the song. High Park was lovely. We took pictures of the cherry and apple blossoms that were out, we saw squirrels, J told me about some of the plants, we walked past the community gardens, discovered some of the most awesome play equipment ever (they asked kids to write or draw what their ideal playground would be like, then they designed it based on the responses. Awesome!), and I spotted my first red winged blackbird. We walked in the park for . . . well, it felt like an hour and a half, two hours . . . I’m not sure. We then caught a bus the wrong way and got kind of stuck between the lake (beautiful) and the freeway (not so beautiful) and ended up flagging down a taxi to take us to Queen West, where we jumped on a streetcar and made our way to the office and paper warehouse where J and A both work.

OMG, THE PAPER. It was gorgeous. I will say no more, but will post pics eventually, so you can drool, too. They gave me a cute little tea tin to take home with me!

By this stage we were quite hungry, and had we made it more quickly to the Rhino we would have been eating a 4 o’clock mystery meal. As it was, we ended up eating an early dinner at about 5. And what a dinner. We ordered a veg curry and the Portobello mushroom salad. The curry was OK, a bit bland, but the mushroom salad was HOLY SMOKES AWESOME. Roast/grilled Portobello mushrooms with raddicio and other salad leaves, a nicely acidic vinaigrette (probably the weakest link, as it tasted a little too much like dressing from a bottle, and I suspect it was), and topped with delicious goats cheese. Om nom nom. I also decided to try some Canadian beer, since I was in the country, and I got a Hockley Valley Stout. It was quite delicious (for beer!), light (for a stout) with a rich caramel malt flavour.

After that, we headed back to J’s apartment and got ready for watching Supernatural - the second last episode of Season 3 – with a bunch of other people. It was fun, people were awesome, cake was consumed with delight! It was a fabbo day!

VANCOUVER ON A SUNDAY

The seagulls are huge. The first time one landed beside me I thought perhaps it was a dodo.

I walk to Canada Place, where my self-guided tour of public art begins. In a repeat of obstacles I will meet during my stay, a number of the roads are closed as construction continues for the winter Olympics to be held here in 2010. Around the water, new and boring apartment towers are growing like feral grass, like they grow around the Docklands in Melbourne. It looks the same the world over. Or does it? If I turn my back on them and look out across the water, my eye snags on a floatplane picking up speed and rising up above the orange buoys, the harbour walks, the masts of the yachts, above the evergreens of the park, leading my gaze to the mountains behind the city, dark blue and white, now behind a cloud, now gleaming as snow slips off the slopes.

Throughout my stay, my first impressions of the airport become second, third, fifteenth impressions of the city: water. Fountains, waterwalls, features, waterfalls, bays, a gentle rain that arrives without comment or excitement and leaves with the slightest breeze. Every time I walk past another pool in another courtyard I almost cry.

fountains /
water / dry
trickles / dry
/ concrete / tulips
/ bleached / bloom
/ yellow / cloud on mountains
/ dry
i am not homesick / until i think
i am /
/ so thirsty
and i like it here /

I wander around the marina, stop in this park to drink in the magnolias and apple blossoms, in the next to watch a Canada goose grazing in a lawn speckled with tiny daisies, and then again on the pier to examine the barnacles and mussels on the wood. There is a scratched up sign telling all arrivals to Canada to report to customs and immigration immediately. There are rows of tulips and pansies in every garden.

At Lost Lagoon I sit for a while on a park bench, watching the geese grooming themselves, twisting their necks and flipping upside down in the water, legs kicking and wings beating as they perform what may be a practical but is certainly a less-than-elegant toilette. I choose the paths closest to the water, the unsealed paths, the tracks that are quieter, without toddlers throwing bread at ducks and children learning to control their scooters. At one point I pause to watch a photographer sitting a short way off the path, offering almonds to little grey squirrels as payment for their pictures. Later I see a tourist couple trying the same trick with a black squirrel, but this one grabs the nut and scampers off around a tree trunk. Mute swans glide carefully amongst the branches at the edge of the lagoon, and small ducks – black and white ones, tiny speckled ones – paddle timidly in the quieter areas, while the wood ducks (as the information sheet said they would) hang around like pigeons waiting for food.

I take some random paths, confident I’m heading in the right direction, and soon find myself at Second Beach, where I buy myself some fries and a cup of tea, and am once again overwhelmed by the array of condiments available. I choose green pickle and ketchup and sit myself down on a wall near the beach. It’s colder now, so I’m wearing my scarf and beanie. I have noticed a distinct lack of beanie action in Vancouver (and LA, but it was hot there), and I wonder if the looks I get when wearing it indicate that it’s obvious I’m not a native. Wandering along the beach paths, I see a few people selling pictures, playing guitars, etc. I also eventually find the highrise apartment with the tree planted on top – apparently that’s the height to which the trees used to grow in this area. It’s astonishing to think, and I wish I could have seen them. As my feet begin to hurt, I stop more frequently on the way towards the bridges, watching a game of roller-hockey and admiring the strange untitled black ball sculpture in a random suburban feeling plaza.

Eventually I make it back to the hotel, and check the time (I don’t have a watch or phone with me). It’s after 5:30, and I’ve been walking and looking for just over six hours. I collapse after having a shower and rubbing my feet (I wish Dan was here to do it for me!), and write a few postcards, buy some internet time, listen to some music. Later in the evening I go out (it gets dark quite late) and realise this area of town is clearly the seedy area at night. Mind you, seedy in Vancouver is hardly too obnoxious, so I feel quite OK about wandering around a few blocks and finding another Crepe Café. I hope to replicate the delicious one I had in LA with Grace, but it is not quite so delicious. Maybe it’s true what they say about good company being important to the flavour.

I fall asleep in my own (borrowed) space for the first time since I left home, and sleep without interruption until the morning.